


An Unexpected Encounter

by LordofLies



Category: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mystery, Unrequited Love, Violence, my best attempts at imitating victorian literary style, utterson is in over his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordofLies/pseuds/LordofLies
Summary: Finding himself more than a little obsessed with the mystery that is Mr. Hyde and his connection to Henry Jekyll, John Utterson seeks to confront him and extract some answers.He gets a little more than he bargained for.





	An Unexpected Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> So this was something I wrote back in 2011 that I recently rediscovered and put through a solid round of editing. It's mostly based of the J&H novella, but Hyde takes a lot of inspiration from the webcomic The Glass Scientists, which you should really check out because it's rad and so is its writer!

Though nearly two months had passed since Dr. Henry Jekyll asked John Utterson to abstain from inquiring any further into the matter of Mr. Hyde—and in those two months no mention of that name had passed his lips—his mind had been far from easy.  Hyde’s face smiled hideously in his dreams, seizing his heart and thinning his blood so that he awoke with shudders in his throat and bed sheets damp with cold sweat.  It was an awful fascination—an obsession, almost.  There were so many questions still left unanswered.

Who was Edward Hyde?  Why did Henry take such an interest in him?  What fiendish hold did that man have on his dear friend?  What was so terrible that Jekyll grew pale at the mere mention of his name and refused to speak of it?  Why did the mere memory of his face—a face that bore no physical deformity—induce such a bout of nausea in him?

It was driving him mad that he could not ask Henry, and no one else seemed to know any more than he did about the mysterious young man his friend had become entangled with.  These questions were eating away at him, and his frequent nightmares put him in a perpetually humorless and irritable mood.

He had to ask again, just one last time, and see if there was anything that Henry was willing to tell him.  Even if it was just a small piece of information.  Even if Henry only told him when or how he had come to know Hyde, it would be enough to ease his restless spirit.

As it was already approaching sunset, Utterson was quick to straighten his attire and make himself presentable before departing.  He left his apartment in a crisp grey suit and hat, anxiety bottled up in his throat.  He reached the home of Dr. Jekyll just as the bleeding auburn sky faded to a dusky purple.  Poole greeted him at the door, and when he inquired as to Jekyll’s availability and wellbeing, the butler told him that his master had retreated to his laboratory for the evening and would not be seeing any more visitors.

Thanking Poole for his information, Utterson left.  A heavy, bitter taste weighed on his tongue.  It seemed he would have to wait a little while longer to discover anything more regarding the elusive Mr. Hyde.

Night had already taken hold of the sky as Utterson crossed the street behind the house, opposite from Jekyll’s laboratory, and began to make his way home.  As luck would have it however, he caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye.

A figure emerged from the entrance of the laboratory, locked the door, and then slipped around the side of the building and down the other side of the street from where Utterson was standing.

He was small of stature, with a light, quick step.  His head was hidden beneath a black top hat that looked just a bit too large for him and a worn, caped trench coat hung off his shoulders.  He carried a wooden walking stick in his left hand.  As Utterson watched him move quickly down the street, he felt a shiver of unease.  Was it Hyde?  Who else could it be but him?  Emerging from Jekyll’s laboratory, in possession of a key, and with the ability to send a twinge of repugnance straight to Utterson’s gut from even this distance—who else could it possibly be?

Almost without thought, Utterson began to follow, keeping his distance and moving through the shadows in the hope that he would not be noticed. 

If he could not get his answers from Henry, then perhaps he could get them from Hyde.

~

Before an hour had passed, Utterson found himself in Soho.  The night sky was in full bloom overhead and the gas lights flickered drearily like little, guiding ghosts.  Men and women moved about the streets, flitting in and out of the shops and houses—dingy theatres, crumbling apartments, cheap pubs, and brothels.  The smells of oily food, alcohol, smoke, and unwashed bodies clogged his nose and burned his eyes.  Drunkards sat on doorsteps with half-empty gin bottles clutched in hand while prostitutes—their dresses hanging low and make-up hiding tired eyes—advertised from every corner.  Filthy children roved in small groups, begging for food or spare change as they weaved between London’s poorest citizens—those who had the least to give.

As the streets began to fill with the noise and activity of the night, Utterson found it more and more difficult to keep track of his target.  Hyde moved like a phantom in the streets.  He whispered between bodies, unnoticed and unfelt, like steam—rushing, untouchable.  Utterson was not so elegant.  It felt like he had to constantly stop or change directions, slow or quicken his pace, or crane his neck around obstacles to keep his sights on Hyde and avoid crashing into anyone.  He didn’t want any attention here.  Soho was not a place that respectable gentlemen were expected to be seen in, and while he certainly wasn’t doing anything that could damage his reputation, rumors spread quickly and viciously.  Once established, they are very hard to remove. 

Despite his difficulties, Utterson managed to keep Hyde in sight as he roamed about Soho for the next few hours.  The strange young man hadn’t done anything particularly interest or obscene so far, though he had flirted with several prostitutes and drunk enough alcohol to put any normal man beneath the table. 

At present, the two of them were inside a particularly pungent and poorly-lit bar.  Utterson sat alone at the table farthest from the bar, upon which Hyde drummed his long fingers, calling for another glass of gin.  The bartender grimaced and obliged, accepting yet more compensation from Hyde’s seemingly bottomless pockets. 

As Hyde drank, a young woman sat down a few seats away from him.  She kept glancing around the room and twisting her fingers in the fabric of her dress.  When the bartender asked her if she wanted a drink, she ordered one and began to sip it quietly.  Utterson watched as Hyde turned to talk to the young woman, who fidgeted uncomfortably as she spoke back.   Utterson was too far away to hear what they were saying, but judging from Hyde’s wicked smirk and the woman’s flushed expression, it was likely quite indecent.

Hyde slide from his own chair to occupy the one directly next to the woman, reminding Utterson strangely of a snake he had seen once as a child, coiling around a branch.  When she snapped some sort of remark at him, he only laughed.  Indignant, the woman made to leave, but Hyde caught her by the wrist, pulling her closer to him as her fury turned to fear.  He leaned toward her, running his fingers through her hair while his other hand kept its vice grip on her wrist.

Utterson felt his stomach twist as Hyde kissed the woman, who obviously wanted nothing to do with him, and began to move his hands toward even more inappropriate places.

“Oy, you there!” snarled a man who had just entered the bar.  “Get yer filthy hands offa her!”  Hyde turned to see the man storming toward them, and he let go of the woman with a mixture of anger and fear.  The woman tore herself away from Hyde and clung to the new arrival, who stood more than a foot above Hyde and who’s thick arms and broad chest strained the fibers of his clothing.

“What the fuck do ya think you were doin’, eh?  Touchin’ someone else’s girl?  Good way to lose somethin’ important, mate,” the behemoth growled threateningly at Hyde—his massive, looming form making Hyde’s seem all the smaller in comparison.

“Someone else’s girl?  I’m terribly sorry, I had no idea,” Hyde replied calmly, his voice somewhat hoarse and broken.  The man was about to reply to that when suddenly his partner’s face twisted up in a horrible fury, her blue eyes smoldering and her cheeks dusky with embarrassment and rage.

“You liar!  He’s a liar, Stephen!  I told ‘im I was waiting for someone, I did!  But he didn’t listen!” 

The man’s face began to flush red with a fury to match his girlfriend’s.

“So, you’re one of those types, eh?  Think you can get away wit’ stealin’ what don’t belong to ya.  Well, I’ll tell ya, stealin’s a sin and sins ought to be punished.”  He sneered, cracking his knuckles and drawing even closer to Hyde.  His body was still as stone, but he watched the man with cold green eyes and a mouth as thin and sharp as a blade.

“Rather conceited of you to put yourself in God’s role, is it not?” Hyde replied quietly.  “He is the judge of a man’s sins after all.  It’s not a task that falls to other men.  Who are we, as sinners, to judge other sinners?”  Stephen snarled angrily at him.

“I ain’t no sinner.  I got my standards and I give my confessions.  And I ain’t no liar.”  Hyde did nothing for a moment, and then a wide, wicked smile spread across his face.

“Oh, but you are.  Tell me, how many other women have you slept with, just this night?”

“The hell are you playin’ at?”  The man hissed furiously.  Hyde’s eyelids drooped lazily.

“I can smell it on you.  The _sssssin_.”  He hissed the word gently, sensually, grin growing wider and still more wicked.  He turned to the girl, who was now looking at her lover with confusion.  “Tell me, did he say you were the only one?  Because I’d say that there are—” he paused, sniffing the air a moment— “…two others who heard the same thing.”  The girl flushed crimson.

“You liar!” she cried.  “You bloody liar!  Stephen would _never_!  We been together three years now!  Go back to that nag you like to fuck, I’m sure her straw’s cold without you!”

“Whores should speak only when spoken to.  I’m sure there are much better uses for that mouth of yours,” Hyde snarled.  That, Utterson realized, was the step too far.

“No one calls my girl a whore, you bastard!” Stephen cried, rushing at Hyde with his great, ham-sized fists tucked in front of him.  Hyde ducked and rolled off chair, springing up on the other side of the large man with his legs spread in a fighting stance, and his hands open at his sides.  Utterson felt a thrill of fear for Hyde as the large man turned and raised his huge fist, fully intent on bringing it down on the other man’s head and breaking it open like an egg.  Utterson held no fondness for Jekyll’s unorthodox companion, but Hyde was of such small stature compared to this man that he seemed but a child.  His limbs were like sticks and his frame small and delicate-looking, like a bird.  His eyes were green stones glittering from the dark hollows beneath his brow.

In a moment of panic, Utterson contemplated throwing himself forward to try and stop the fight, and thus protect Hyde from serious injury.  After all, he had promised Henry that he would protect Hyde, and for Henry’s sake, he would do just that.  But what authority could he exert over such a volatile and physically intimidating man?  He would likely only succeed in injuring himself and his good name. 

Before Utterson could make up his mind as to whether or not he should put himself forward, Stephen had already lunged.

Quick as a snake, Hyde dodged his attack, and slipped to the side.  He waited for a moment as Stephen whirled around in fury, searching for his missing victim.  Just then, before things could get further out of hand, the bartender put himself forward and demanded that Stephen take his business elsewhere, because if anything got damaged he would be the one paying for it.  Stephen glared at the bartender, whose face was red with fury, his thick moustache bristling, and then turned to Hyde, who had retrieved his cane from its perch beside the barstool.

“Get outside and fight me like a man, you imp,” the man snarled.  He stormed outside, his girlfriend hurrying behind him and glancing back every few seconds to make sure that Hyde was keeping distance and not coming too close to her.  Utterson waited to follow for a moment or two after the three of them had exited.  A few other people who had been lounging about inside the bar joined him, eager for a bit of excitement that night. 

He slipped out the door and to the side, just in time to see Stephen once again lunging for Hyde.  This time, Hyde did not step out of the way.  His stony face bloomed once again into a wicked grin, his cold green eyes smoldering with some dark thrill.  Utterson shuddered at the sight of them—so absolute was the strange unease he felt around Hyde. There was something unspeakable evil about that young man.

As Stephen brought his fist down with a cry, Hyde’s thin, wiry hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist, halting his attack with barely a tremor.  Stephen blinked, shock turning to rage as Hyde stood there, smiling wickedly.

“You little bastard!” he cried, about to strike Hyde with his other fist.  Then Hyde squeezed, his spidery fingers digging deep into the other man’s flesh.  Stephen screamed, crumpling to his knees as Hyde squeezed his wrist tighter and tighter, cords bulging in his pale neck.  Utterson balked at the sound of the man’s bones crunching and grinding together.  He sank to the ground, screaming in pain.  Hyde loomed over him like a malignant specter.  He twisted the man’s arm backwards, and the shoulder popped into a grotesque shape.  Stephen was howling with agony now, tears streaming down his face as he blubbered and begged for mercy.

Hyde’s smile faded.  He leaned in towards Stephen, and whispered something that made the larger man’s eyes go wide with fear.  Hyde released his wrist, and then, with the speed of a cobra, lashed his cane against the man’s face. 

Bone cracked and blood spewed from his nose.  With savage glee Hyde struck him again and again, beating him into the ground with inhuman strength until, it seemed, he had exhausted himself.  Stephen lay weeping on the ground, his arm twisted at a sickening angle, his nose and several ribs broken, and blood soaking his clothes.

Once Hyde seemed to catch his breath, he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the flecks of blood from his face and cane, grimacing at the discolored specks on his trousers and coat.  As he walked away, he smiled at the woman who had stood petrified in horror as she watched her lover be brutally beaten.

“You monster!” she shrieked, rushing to Stephen’s side and crying out for someone, please, to help her.  Hyde hissed at the young woman as people began to take notice of the scene, and those who had been there to witness it began hurrying off to tell others and put as much distance between themselves and Hyde as they could.  With a light step, he hurried away from the scene and disappeared down another street.

Utterson stood frozen in horror at what he had witnessed.  So, this… this was Henry’s friend?  This violent, volatile, brutish young man who had savagely abused a man who had already surrendered to him?  It was inhuman.  It was horrifying. 

Suddenly, Utterson felt a terrible, frigid flood of fear.  Surely, Hyde was not threatening Henry?  Surely, he was not abusing him?  Utterson had seen no signs of physical maltreatment when he had last visited his dear friend, but bruises can be hidden easily with clothing, and Henry had looked tired—very tired indeed.  Perhaps that was why he had not wished to speak of it?

Utterson was now more determined than ever to extract his answers from Hyde, and with lean swiftness, he walked quickly away from the horrific scene and down the road that Hyde had taken.  He saw no sign of the impish man, and so he hurried his pace, turning down corner after corner, until the streets were no longer bustling with people.  Indeed, there were no people at all.  The streets were silent, dim, and a thick London fog sought to smother the gas-lit lamps that were Utterson’s only means of sight.

Panic began to seize him as he turned down yet another street, with still no sign of Hyde.  Had he taken a wrong turn?  Was Hyde making his escape down some other avenue entirely?  Was he walking in circles, hopeless lost as the night climbed higher and all manner of decent folk were asleep in their beds?  If he lost Hyde now, he could not say for certain that he would ever have this opportunity again.  He was a hard man to get a hold of, and an even harder man to pry answers from.  Utterson might not have a chance like this again.

He stopped in the middle of a street to catch his breath, having nearly run all the way there, and his lungs not being quite what they had once been.  Thanking his long stride for getting him this far this quickly, he turned to look around. 

The fog had gotten thicker, and it was difficult to see more than twenty feet ahead.  The lamps still shone through the fog, and they made eerie, ghostly halos in the mist.  Utterson shivered, his coat not the best choice for a late-night outing in the cold, damp London streets. 

Hyde seemed to have vanished without a trace, and Utterson sighed heavily.  He resolved to make his way back to his apartment and try to contact Jekyll again in the morning.

He looked up, and right into the gaunt, shadowed face of Edward Hyde.

With a cry of alarm, Utterson stumbled backwards, his heart racing.  Hyde merely stood there, his expression one of mixed suspicion and boredom.

“Why have you been following me?” he asked, and Utterson coughed, gathering himself.

“There is something I have been meaning to ask you,” he replied.  Hyde cocked his head quizzically.

“Why not ask me when you first saw me?  Why follow me all night, all through Soho.  I’m sure a man of your status has more… proper things he could be doing.”  He smiled mischievously, and Utterson felt his stomach twist.  He was being mocked.

“I was merely waiting for the… ah, most appropriate time,” he replied stiffly.  Hyde laughed.  It was a high sound, and it fluctuated between guttural and shrill, unlike his soft, husky speaking voice.  It set Utterson’s teeth on edge.

“Were you now?” he asked, the laughter having died down to a soft giggling, and a wide smile stretched across his face.  “Is this a more appropriate time, then?  All alone, in a back alley, in the small hours of the morning?”

“It’s not ideal,” replied Utterson, trying to salvage some dignity, “but I suppose it will do.”

“So, what have you been meaning to ask me, then?” Hyde said, still smiling.  “I’m afraid I do not have all night to stand here engaging in persiflage with you.”  Utterson inhaled, tightening his lips and preparing himself for Hyde’s reaction.

“What is your relationship to Henry Jekyll?”

Instantly, Hyde’s smile faded.  His eyes narrowed and the shadowed hollows beneath them seemed to grow darker and more prominent.

“How does my relationship to him concern you?” he hissed, furious.  Utterson swallowed, trying to stay firm and not think about what could befall him should he unwittingly invoke this creature’s wrath.

“Dr. Jekyll is a close, personal friend of mine, and I am concerned for his wellbeing,” he said, trying to conceal the tremor in his voice.  Hyde sneered at him.

“Concerned for him, are you?  And how do I factor into this?”

“When you come up in conversation between us, he will grow quiet and beg of me not to ask anything about you.  I am concerned as to what influence you may have over him, because I doubt that it is benign.” 

Utterson could feel his pulse racing as Hyde’s displeased frown slowly turned up into a smile once more.  Strangely, his smile was more unsettling than his grimace.

“Dr. Jekyll and I share a very… intimate relationship.  Very intimate indeed,” he said, eyes dancing with wicked pleasure.  Utterson felt his face flush with the implication.  His heart lurched in his chest.

“If you’re hurting him…” Utterson started, but Hyde stepped closer to him, leering, his face for too close for Utterson’s comfort.

“You’ll what?” Hyde asked, challenging.  Utterson frowned, straightening himself and trying his best to loom imposingly over Hyde—which was not a difficult task, really.

“I will see to it that justice finds you,” Utterson promised, and Hyde smiled, green eyes looking up at him lazily.

“Will you now?” he whispered.  Before Utterson could utter a reply, Hyde had grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down into a savage kiss.  Utterson froze with shock and horror, eyes wide and stomach churning at the unfathomable, improper, ludicrousness of it.  Before he could force himself away from Hyde, the smaller man had already released him, and stood leaning on his cane, grinning wickedly while Utterson coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Let justice find me then,” Hyde laughed, turning on his heel and allowing the thick fog to swallow him.  His laughter echoed through the empty streets, and Utterson could still hear it even when it finally faded away. 

He stood staring at the empty street, still wiping his mouth and coughing, trying remove of the taste Hyde’s kiss.  Certainly, his worst fears had been realized.  If Hyde was the sort of man who preferred the company of other men to that of women, then perhaps that meant that Henry was as well. Certainly, it was surprising, but not impossible.  Henry Jekyll had never been married, or even expressed any serious interest in the idea of it.

Of course, neither had Utterson, for that matter.  And he would have been lying to himself if he hadn’t wished from time to time that he and Henry were closer than they already were.  Grieving for what had never been, he realized that perhaps he didn’t know Henry even as well as he’d thought. 

If Henry was indeed in a relationship of that manner with Hyde, then perhaps it was not entirely consensual.  Perhaps Hyde had some sort of dark, intimate hold over Henry, and that was why he did not wish to speak of it.  The shame, the embarrassment!  An individual as devious and violent as Hyde could have nothing but unwholesome intentions.  Of that, at least, Utterson was certain.

As Utterson weaved his way home through the darkened streets, he felt a flame of indignation and anger rise inside him.  Indignation that Hyde had so easily reduced him to a stuttering statue, and anger that he might be, unknown to all, abusing his dear friend Henry.  Utterson resolved to discuss the matter with Henry come morning.  Such a troubling thing could not wait any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally planned to included a follow-up scene where Utterson does confront Jekyll and everything is awkward and it turns out Utterson's unrequited crush is actually mutual pining and Hyde kissing Utterson was a manifestation of Jekyll's feelings for him, but since it kept just not happening I'm putting the fic up as is. It's been sitting in a folder for six years after all I think it's time.


End file.
